Unsere Ehre ist die Treue
by InorganicAngel
Summary: Set during WWII, what if the members of Schwarz had lived in the time of Hitler...(argh..screw summaries)


Unsere Ehre ist die Treue

Warning: A/U, set during WWII and includes nearly all the nasty things which happend during that times (violence, mention of massmurder, racism and other nasty stuff). I don't support nor think what had happend during that time is right, but this fic will also have characters in it that support Hitler. Oh...nearly forgot, yaoi content too.

A/N: focused on the characters of Schwarz, probably many mistakes since english isn't my first language and I have no beta-reader, review would be nice.

Unsere Ehre ist die Treue

Our honour is faithfulness

4.7.1934

They killed Ernst Röhm yesterday. 

The putsch was a disaster.

Not only they got us, but took the revolt as start to eliminate a few other people that were a thorn in their eyes. Most of the leaders of the SA are death.

Shot or beheaded.

Not that I care for them.

As long as they kill each other it is fine with me.

Shall the SA and the SS shoot and maim each other as long as they like.

I am not fond of either.

Even if Röhm had been of slight usage.

His hunger for power made him easily useable and an opinion to consider.

That's why I have been sent.

To help a little, show him that others shared his opinion and backed him up.

Not that we thought he would be a better ruler or anything. But better than "der Führer" nonetheless.

Hitler is a threat, one that can't be underestimated.

We have known that the moment he came to power.

Since then our agents have been sent to Germany, providing us with information.

We didn't like what we heard one bit.

So we are keen to dispose him before anything drastic happens.

A putsch seemed a good idea, without getting our name involved. We used the SA, their own troop against them.

It seemed a perfect idea.

There has only been a slight chance of actually loosing or something drastic to happen. I have foreseen it.

And nonetheless it has happened.

Where have things taken a downward turn?

Where has information lacked through? 

I am not sure.

I can't think of someone on my side that would have talked.

And one of the SA?

No, he would have get himself killed.

So how did it happen that I sit in this rathole of a cell, without light, without food and stale water since three days, waiting for my execution.

I am not even sure where exactly I am.

Yes, somewhere in Berlin. But not where this hellhole lies.

Somewhere, down the corridor, I can hear footsteps, heavy army boots falling on the stone floor, the rattling of keys, that comes nearer. So, they finally come to get me. I have started to wonder. The rest of my team had been eliminated two days ago.

~*~*~ 

The heavy door was opened, the old swings screeching loudly in the silence, dim light from the corridor falling into the darkness of the cell.

The hunched over figure of the man, not more than a outline in the far off corner, not bothering to look up, even as footsteps came up to him, a pair of legs, clad in heavy boots stepping into his vision.

"Macht das Licht an und lasst uns alleine!"*

The voice rang loudly in the ears of the dark haired man, the foreign words in their loudness even more disturbing after days were the only sound has been his breathing and the beating of his own heart.

Someone hurried away to follow the command and a moment later the room was painted into bright light, blinding him for a moment, the sound of the door closing again.

"A American...goddamn your people can't mind their own business, can they?"

He looked up, blinking against the light, as he heard the man using fluent english, even if it had a weird accent, no, not exactly accent, more like a characteristic in the voice itself.

Slowly the black scheme above him got a form, the black planes and shadows clearing. It took him longer than normally, they had taken his glasses and after the dark he was partly blinded by the light.

The face above him was pale, high cheekbones, lips drawn into a self-assured smirk, eyes a pale green, a sadistic and amused glint in them as they wandered shamelessly over him. His attention was drawn to the wild light red hair, that was held back by a barret, a long braid falling over the shoulder of the man, contrasting starkly against the black leather trenchcoat. The next thing he recognised was the ribbon around the upper arm, white with a black lettering and the red and black swastika, stating clearly "SS".

Oh joy, one of Hitler's bloodhounds.

He hadn't heard much of the SS, only that that they were supposed to be a terror group, the killers and most brutal under Hitler's command.

He definitely hadn't thought that they would look like some deranged boy stuck into a uniform he had yet to grow in.

Well, never judge someone by his appearance.

"That's a good idea."

Before he could wonder how the redhead had known what he thought, or if it even was related to his thoughts, he was kicked in the side, the force behind the blow and the metal covered boot forcing the breath out of him. A second blow followed, cracking a rip. The American tasted blood on his tongue, black dots dancing briefly before his eyes, but no sound escaped his lips.

"So. Now we gonna talk."

The redhead sank to his knees in front of the other, tangling his fingers in the short black hair and yanked his head up.

"Who are you?"

No answer.

A moment green eyes meet blue, fighting a battle, that was cut short as the first one knocked the head of the other down to the ground.

"Fine have it your way."

The American spit blood as he moved himself in an upright position, dancing on the edge of unconsciousness again.

He steeled himself for another blow, but non followed. The hand in his hair loosened, falling away with a mockingly soft caress.

"What a waste." The redhead smiled, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Ich wüsste besseres mit dir anzufangen."**

The green eyes closed and the American felt something grip his mind, taking a hold and trying to worm its way in brutally. Claws tearing him apart. He grimaced, hands holding his head and against all his attempts a whimper of pain came over his lips.

The eyes of the other flew open suddenly, the pain in the others head vanishing the same instance. The SS-soldier stared down at the panting prisoner, who had sunken together even more, a look of surprise painted on his face, that was washed away by a smirk, his eyes gleaming in a feral light.

"Eine Herausforderung...."***

He stood up, the black coat billowing around him as he stepped to the door, the guard opening immediately.

"Name Crawford Brad. Rank Lt. . Einheit Secret Service US. Er bleibt hier. Haltet ihm am Leben. Er ist mein Gefangener. Die anderen zum Erschiessungskomando." ****

The door closed with an echoing sound, leaving the prisoner, Crawford, alone again.

* Macht das Licht an und lasst uns alleine. = Turn on the lights and leave us alone.

** Ich wüsst besseres mit dir anzufangen. = I would know better things to do with you.

*** Eine Herausforderung = A challenge

**** Einheit Secret Service US. Er bleibt hier. Haltet ihm am Leben. Er ist mein Gefangener. Die anderen zum Erschiessungskomando. = Unit Secret Service US. He stays here. Hold him alive. He is my prisoner. Lead the others to the execution. 


End file.
